


Nikki

by J_EnotsoLovely



Series: One Piece One Shots and Drabbles [24]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drug Addiction, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Read this and give it a chance, Rehabilitation, Sanji Is Not A Vinsmoke, Self-Esteem Issues, Smoking, So what if I told you Sanji isn't ACTUALLY having sex with a woman, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Vinsmoke Sanji Needs a Hug, Vinsmoke Sanji-centric, hear me out, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27947897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_EnotsoLovely/pseuds/J_EnotsoLovely
Summary: It takes the chef a while to realize that he's gone without breathing for too long, so caught up with the way she filled him, resting in his lungs and lingering on his lips. She's intoxicating. Coming back a pace, he lets out a low exhale, smirking as she mewls pitifully at the way his nails scratch against her stomach.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Series: One Piece One Shots and Drabbles [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936849
Comments: 47
Kudos: 50





	1. Act One: Nikki

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure who knows this, but I love the relationship between Sanji and his cigarettes. As weird as that sounds.  
> Just-- Sanji, Cigarettes, Women, and Cooking is such an intricate mesh of stuff. And this song kind of connects it all, except for the cooking part.

_You see, I love her. That's all there really is to it._

As a general rule, Sanji loves women. He does because he has to. It's impossible and improbable to feel or think anything else. Especially when it comes to Her. 

He starts his day with slow strokes up her side, relishing the way her stomach folds and crinkles like plastic, the slightly squeaky moan he manages to coax out of her, and the way he shivers hearing that noise. Its annoying, earsplitting, and yet seductive, more than it has any right to be and Sanji feels his breath catch, holding in a purr at the rough, yet constant texture of her skin. She's cool to the touch, clothes a long forgotten thing, hanging naked and exposed from the blonde's mouth. 

Bitter. 

She's bitter, so bitter its almost disgusting-- it _is_ disgusting, but its always like this.

Its always like this.

_I hate her too though._

He hates that he loves the way she tastes. The way she coats his tongue, limp and waiting, perfectly compliant. She lays silent and bare, waiting calmly for his ministrations but even without speaking Sanji knows what she wants.

Sanji knows _exactly_ what she wants. Its a dance they perform, several times a day, the chef afraid that if he ever told someone they'd question his addiction. But it isn't like that. 

See, Nikki darling, is a bit of a masochist. She likes pain, _loves_ it. Cherishes it. Leaks buckets like a faucet left on if he so much as gets _close_ with a lighter, The heat makes her body sweat and skin quiver, shaking, melting, shriveling until the intensity is almost unbearable. Normally, the blonde would be above hurting woman, but she's not like others. Nikki isn't typical, and Sanji would be _damn_ liar too if he says he doesn't like doing what he does to her. 

He ruins her as she ruins him, running his tongue along her back, stopping at the folds of her vagina, before giving a tentative lick. She makes no sound, but between her shaking body as the fire devours her-- destroying her already disgusting complexion-- and the way slick falls from her in small clots, pre-cum heavy and dark, he knows she's enjoying it.

Sanji probes at the open cavity, his breath warm on her, enveloping her whole, mouth wrapped tight around her clit and he pulls and _sucks._ She shivers again, the motion wreaking through her in waves. 

It takes the chef a while to realize that he's gone without breathing for far too long, so caught up with the way she filled him, resting in his lungs and lingering on his lips. She's intoxicating. Coming back a pace, he lets out a low exhale, smirking as she mewls pitifully at the way his nails scratch against her stomach.

By now she's dripping; messy and coming out in thin rivulets. Her cum is a clear, white grayish color and she smells even more bitter than she tastes. 

Nikki. Nicotine.

_We have real good...sessions. She helps a lot. Honestly, she's not so much of an addiction, as my salvation._

Sanji hates her, truly. Thats all there is to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How you liking that contrast of the first sentence compared to the last one?


	2. Act Two: Cooking

_Hobbies? I guess I like reading. Though, if it's addiction-- real addiction you want to talk about, then cooking, for sure._

But its more than that. So much more. 

Cooking is his goddess. A glorious being which he worships, bowing reverently at her alter and groveling for forgiveness.

Because one day, and maybe one day soon, he'll have to give her up. He won't be able to go on, not with the same amount of joy as before. She's good to him, always is, always has been, she makes him feel like a king.

And like a rightful queen, a blemished deity, she fights to stay at his side, forever in the back of his mind, yelling, screaming, demanding his attention and time. She wants the destroyed human, to take this lead and mold him into gold. His heart is hers, wholly and truly, even while his lungs blacken and the chef blatantly cheats on her. Many times, she's arrived, an unwilling member in a forced threesome. She commands his hands, hands that he doesn't bother using to touch himself with, because Cooking is orgasmic enough. 

Even now, Sanji _craves._

And without asking, Nikki provides-- pungent and strong, fuck the fact that she isn't what he _wants_. 

~~Except that she _is_ and Sanji is hopeless to deny his salvation of anything she desires.~~

The blonde watches forlornly, staring with wide, calculating eyes as he feeds others. He observes the way their mouth close around forks or spoons, lashes fluttering from pure pleasure. He sees the way their legs close and throat clenches, the barely suppressed moans they make.

He feels envious.

Because he doesn't know the taste. He _can't_ anymore. 

And cooking hates him for it. She hates Nikki more though.

_Does she get in the way? No shit sherlock. You have any idea how many taste buds die whenever I light her up? Hundreds. Its a miracle my food even tastes as good as it does still. Muscle memory at this point._

Sanji will have to leave cooking, and the impending break up rips his heart to shreds. He supposes that it could be worse. At least Nikki is still here, and she'll catch him, the way she always does, after each and every one of his rejections. 

He comes back to her and she waits, laid out and ready. They fuck long into the night, until their combined stench fills the room. She invades him, whispers sweet nothings, and promises he'll be alright, as long as he has her.

And Sanji _believes_ , he believes because there's never been anyone else who was so constant. The old man could be fickle, one day this and anther day that. The Strawhats are lovely, but they're always going from one adventure to the next. There's no in between.

Him and the Marimo..well they function off of spontaneous actions. The only thing constant about them are their inconsistencies. 

That just isn't enough.

So Sanji cooks and he apologies to his benevolent Goddess, because he loves seeing others enjoy what he no longer can. And he smokes so he's never hungry.

_You see what I mean? Nikki, she saved me. But cooking has me addicted. I can't stay away, even when I know it'll all crash down in the end, cushioned by a cloud of smoke._


	3. Act Three: Zoro

_Asthma? No, I don't have it. Shit, I don't think._

It starts with him noticing the shortness of breath. He gets in a fight at the All Blue, and suddenly, there's no air. He kicks the last attacker into the alley, then promptly collapses, clutching his chest in desperation. 

It hurts. 

It hurts _bad_ and there's no way to stop it. 

His shortness of breath isn't a one time thing. More like a week, where even Nikki couldn't even ease his pain, and of course, Sanji knew that. 

How could the cause of a disease also be the cure?

_Aren't you just asking a variation of the same question? Whatever, I guess I can change my answer a bit too. I hate that I need her. I long for her._

Sanji wonders sometimes, if Zoro knows that he's signed up for a ployamorous relationship. A constant, everlasting threesome. He knows the swordsman can taste her when they kiss, the way she loiters on his lips, soaked deep into his very being. But Zoro seems to like her, moaning as Sanji opens his mouth and licking the inside greedily, lapping like a dog at water. 

The chef finds that he as much as he needs her, he loves Zoro's ridges and valleys much more. 

There's something to be said about the way the swordsman quivers under his touch. The way he gets to devour the other, bit by bit, ripping him apart, in a way has Zoro _keening_ like a whore.

He starts with slow, achingly slow strokes up his side, relishing the way his stomach folds and crinkles like plastic, the ridges of the swordsman scars becoming prominent, rising to the surface. Its annoying, weird to touch, and yet seductive, more than it has any right to be and Sanji feels his breath catch, holding in a purr at the rough, and inconsistent texture of his skin. He's hot to the touch, burning, clothes a long forgotten thing, hanging naked and exposed from the blonde's mouth. 

Bitter. 

He's bitter, so bitter its almost disgusting-- it _is_ disgusting, but its always like this.

Its always like this.

He hates that he loves the way he tastes. The way he coats his tongue, limp and waiting, perfectly compliant. He lays silent and bare, waiting calmly for his ministrations but even without speaking Sanji knows what he wants.

Sanji knows _exactly_ what he wants. Its a dance they perform, several times a day, the chef afraid that if he ever told someone they'd question his addiction. The inability to keep his hands to himself-- because he doesn't deserve to take of himself. It better to take care of others. And maybe it seems obsessive. But it isn't like that. 

See, Zoro darling, is a bit of a masochist. He likes pain, _loves_ it. Cherishes it.

Leaks buckets like a faucet left on if he so much as gets _close---_

Wait.

This feels like deja vu. 

Sanji has been here. Sanji _knows_ he's been here before. Down this very path, just a few hours ago. He can't even have sex without it leading back to her. 

Zoro kisses him, thick lips hot and desperate, greedy in his actions. The green haired man steals all of his air-- the little of it he has left-- and _she_ goes with him. Zoro growls, leaning back only to attack the chef's mouth again and there's no chance to ask what the hell has gotten into the other.

All Sanji knows, is that he's jealous, irrationally so. She's in his boyfriend, she's defiling him, running rampant in his blood and breading like the deadly virus she is. The swordsman is being utterly violated by Nikki and with a sudden epiphany, the chef realizes that he doesn't know who exactly he's jealous of.

Zoro, because she's diverted her attention to him, spreading her death through him, and not just Sanji. Or Nikki, because she managed to get inside the swordsman before he could. 

_Whatever._ Sanji thinks, and pulls down his pants. That is going to be corrected shortly anyways.

They lay together in silence, and the blonde hears her call to him. _Its my turn now._ She moans, and his breath hitches, mouth working around an invisible piece of her. How deliciously sinful, post sex and thinking of another. 

And it seems that the swordsman can read his mind as well because he tenses, wrapping his arms around Sanji's waist as if to keep him from moving. 

"Let me be your drug." Zoro pleads-- _begs--_ because under the cover of the night is the only time the man will allow himself to stoop so low. "If you're going to die... let _me_ be the one who kills you."

Sanji lets out a dry laugh, feeling her in his lungs, shaking with a similar amusement as he trails along the swordsman's face, lightly hitting his earrings. "Oh Marimo." he whispered, voice low, husky. "I'm a slave for the Nicotine, and you could never be as intoxicating as her."

He reaches across the bed, past his boyfriend, and takes a hold of her, grabbing the lighter and readying himself for their usual dance.

It processes distantly that Sanji has just blatantly chosen his savior over his lover. He finds that he can't bring himself to regret it as much as he wants. 

They'd been together more than ten years after all. She was his only constant. The one to catch him after he falls into despair. She's taking everything from him, but she keeps him sated, keeps him whole. 

It him and her. Always. 

Nikki. Nicotine. 

_Now thats a mean question to ask Mr. Therapist, sir. Has a simple, and tragic answer however. She's ruined me. And everything I've built._

The chef hates her, truly. But nothing can replace her. 

He _craves_ , and she provides. 

Sanji can't breath.

"This...Nikki as you call it, could you explain her to me? What does she mean to you?"

_You see, I love her. Thats all there is to it. I hate her too though, but we have real good...sessions. Honestly, she's not so much of an addiction as my salvation._

"I can tell that you're suffering from this, have you tried turning to alternative source, perhaps some sort of hobby?"

_Hobbies? I guess I like reading. Though, if its an addiction-- a real addiction you want to talk about, then cooking, for sure._

"You like to cook? Lovely! But doesn't smo-- _she_ get in the way?"

_Does she get in the way? No shit sherlock. You have any idea how many taste buds die whenever I light her up? Hundreds. Its a miracle my food even tastes as good as it does still. Muscle memory at this point._

"Mr. Black, I'm going to ask that you stop fidgeting with the pack of cigarettes in your hands please."

_You see what I mean? Nikki, she saved me. But cooking has me addicted. I can't stay away, even when I know it'll all crash down in the end, cushioned by a cloud of smoke._

"And health wise? Do have any allergies? Perhaps asthma?"

_Asthma? No, I don't have it. Shit, I don't think._

"Hm, I see. And what exactly are your feels towards her? Nikki I mean?"

_Aren't you just asking a variation of the same question? Whatever, I guess I can change me answer a bit too. I hate that I need her. I long for her._

"And your relationships? A lover? How has her presence affected that?"

_Now thats a mean question to ask Mr. Therapist, sir. Has a simple, and tragic answer however. She's ruined me. And everything I've built._

**Author's Note:**

> Sanji seeing his addiction as a woman. What more could you ask for?  
> Also: this was one of the most challenging things i've ever written.


End file.
